


Hear Me Out

by vuas



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breathplay, Co-workers, Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Finger Sucking, Light Dom/sub, Lit rally nobody asked for this, Masturbation, Mitaka almost quits bc he has to be in a room alone with them, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Quiet Sex, Sex Toys, Sex work? KINDA, Vaginal Fingering, audio erotica, pussy slapping, uh how is that not a tag already y’all are lame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24747232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vuas/pseuds/vuas
Summary: “Man makes five thousand women orgasm—without even touching them!”Rey doesn’t believe the article at first; that audio erotica was really enough to get anyone off.Until she tries it.Or: Rey’s coworker Ben has an unusual side gig.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 252
Kudos: 1745





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all: please post a new WIP chapter
> 
> Me: counterpoint

It starts, of course, as a joke. A humorous article taken from the worst kind of website makes the rounds in the group chat at work; Rey snorts and makes eye contact with Rose— who’s experiencing a fit of giggles—over the top of their shared cubicle wall when she clicks the link.

**_Man makes five thousand women orgasm—without even touching them!_ **

_Alexa play I heard it through the grapevine_

_And I can’t even get a text back ajdhajaijfs_

_Ok but how do I get hired to investigate audio porn wtf?????_

_Me: there’s no way this real lol_

_Also me: coochie like deep voice thank u sir_

The article details an interview with a man using a Pseudonym, calling himself _Kylo Ren._ And when she downloads the whole article, she can see why he’s reluctant to associate his job with his real name; he makes “audio pornography” recordings. On the scale of weird employment, it ranks pretty high, between professional juggling and dog-surfing instructor; but Rey has her doubts regarding the accuracy of his claims. A voice? Nothing but _words_? 

“There’s just no way,” Rey says quietly in line a few hours later at lunch, waiting for an overpriced salad beside Finn. “I just need something visual. Can you imagine how _goofy_ it is to just be laying in bed, knickers at your ankles and there’s a guy you’re never going to meet describing in your ear what he’s going to do to your-“

The woman standing at the counter with a child on her hip slowly turns around to give them a righteous glare, her free hand cupped protectively over the kid’s ears.

Rey clears her throat, avoiding the woman’s accusatory gaze, hefting her tote on her shoulder. The woman decides Rey is properly chastened, turning back to grab her order and walk out, no-longer-innocent offspring in tow—Finn, meanwhile, is doubled over in silent laughter.

“I dunno,” Finn whispers while wiping tears from his eyes. “Have you _tried_ listening to it? I mean,” he whistles. “It’s _raunchy_ stuff _._ Kinda hot.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “I have a Satisfyer and a pornhub account. Let’s not make it more complicated than it needs to be-“

She stumbles; she’d been eyeing up her kale and parm monstrosity behind the glass (they had given her the vinaigrette twice this month by accident, it wasn’t going to happen again on her watch) and managed to trip over her own feet _right_ into the man standing behind her. He seems unaffected, respectfully steadying her with a single palm on the small of her back. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a curl of dark hair, a familiar masculine scent; Rey realizes she has the misfortune to _know_ this guy.

“Shit. Sorry,” her eyes widen; it's _Ben,_ from the IT Department, of all people; apparently salad is the lunch of choice of Resistance Allies Incorporated this afternoon. The dark-haired redwood was a brooding, silent hulk who used pure intimidation to fix every hard drive in the building. She’s seen him lurking about with his stupid-perfect hair and his stupid-perfect nose; using guerilla tactics on unsuspecting internet connections. He hardly ever speaks, just grunts at victims who dare to get too close when he’s summoned from his basement office by unruly technology.

He’s the first man she’s ever met who actually keeps his mouth shut.

And she strongly suspects this has something to do with her irrational attraction to him.

Okay, so the bulging seams of his button downs _help,_ but after three bum relationships last year alone, Rey’s on a bit of a….dry spell. A sabbatical, if you will, from all things dating-and-feelings related. A fun before-bed fantasy of a man who couldn’t ruin himself by opening his big fat mouth was _exactly_ what she needed to get her self-worth back in order.

Her spine feels electric and he’s not even touching her anymore; the damage is done, however. She can feel where his individual fingertips were splayed out, warm and strong over her rayon blouse. She has half a mind to faint into his arms like a Victorian-era widow just to gift herself a few more harmless items for the spank-bank.

“Order one-sixteen?” a voice calls out over the crowd.

Rey is forced to pull her awareness back to the present; she glances down at her receipt and sees that her ticket number hasn’t magically changed in the past few minutes. Oh well—it’s not like having the opportunity to chat with Ben was going to do anything productive for her anyway.

“That’s me,” Rey calls out, flagging down the bored-looking high school employee. She elbows two suits out of the way, grabbing her compostable container. It’s too crowded to justify standing in here, so she gives Finn a nod that clearly means _I’ll be waiting outside._ And then—she’s a little weak where he’s concerned, and her heart is still beating too fast, making her foolish: she finds Ben’s gaze and smiles, giving him a wave on her way out.

She swears he _maybe_ smiled back; a tiny thing, more of an involuntary twitch, really. It’s cute. Like a baby learning they can do something for the first time.

Finn pops out the door onto the busy sidewalk moments later with his own bounty—balsamic caprese. “I heard the craziest rumor last week, slipped my mind to tell you—can you believe there’s people who think that IT guy-“ he jerks his head in the direction of the restaurant, where Ben is still standing a head taller than everyone inside, “-is related to _Leia_ ?” He snorts, shaking his head. “If that was at all true, geneticists would _still_ be studying his seven-foot ass full time.” Rey grins in response. The idea of tiny, chatter-box Leia Organa having a brooding, mute hulk of a son is just what she needs to get her through the day.

And perhaps because she waved at him, he’ll escalate her IT ticket next time when she inevitably forgets her password.

* * *

She barely gets her month-end reports done by five on Friday; she skips the pay-day celebration at the Cantina and heads home with a migraine. It’s only natural that as soon as she’s done with her shower she tries to relax. In bed. With her laptop. On a particular website.

Orgasms release endorphins which are proven to reduce migrane symptoms. It’s _science._ She definitely read that somewhere.

She has a few favorites; one where a mahogany desk is brutally held captive by two bodies. There’s another where this guy just _lifts up_ the girl under her knees and suspends her like that in the air while he fucks her, so she’s impaled while her toes curl. There’s another where a blonde gives a magnificent blowjob, filthy and yet unashamed. In it, the guy tells her she’s _earned_ _getting that pussy fucked_. It makes her stomach flip and her insides clench every time she listens to it.

Every time she...hears...it.

Her cursor hovers over the search bar; Rey bites her lip. So maybe the group chat had a point: dirty talk was hot. She’s not immune to the charms of a masculine voice working through vowels, turning them dulcet-sweet. Words that she’d be nervous to say aloud—Rey finds that the image of someone confidently using vocabulary like _cunt, cock, come;_ it’s a little switch in her hindbrain labeled “turn on”.

It’s not the worst idea she’s ever had. She wouldn’t be hurting anybody; the guy in the article got paid via ad revenue. It could be _interesting._ Maybe she’d learn something about herself.

It was probably just going to give her second-hand embarrassment.

So she might as well investigate anyway.

Rey huffs, taking a hand out of her underwear to type in _Kylo Ren audio erotica;_ google, of course, takes her right to it. A sleek grey and white website designed by someone who knew their way around a computer, a polished logo of a pair of headphones pasted the top. The ads are actually rather tasteful: instead of hot singles in her area, he’s advertising the same companies she hears about in her podcasts, like mattresses or at-home hair color. The content itself is written blog-style; the posts chronologically ordered. Then there’s the sidebar: all the audios are organized into tagged categories, and Rey’s face turns a brighter shade of red with each one. 

_Ass Play, Asphyxiation, Age Play, Blowjob, Bareback, Cunniligus, Daddy Kink, Double Penetration—_

Rey only makes it that far before looking around the room and apologizing to any ghosts who might be present: how many posts did this guy _have?_ She’s starting to see why he makes so much money; apparently he’s been producing an entire library’s worth of content. The tags lower down the list make her squirm: _orgasm denial, spanking, submissive instructions-_

She swallows. Again, the cursor hovers. If that’s what she thinks it means—and it must be, because what _else_ would be under a tag like that?

Her previous lovers had been at various levels of interest whenever she brought this up: that perhaps she didn’t want to make decisions for once. Be told what to do so she could be _good._ To be overpowered in a way that made her feel cared for. Precious.

_Maybe you should go to therapy,_ one guy had said. _I don’t want to hurt you._

And it wasn’t _about_ that—but she had never found the words to explain, and it was easier to let it lie. Rey gagged at the idea of going on a legitimate kink hookup site; between popular usernames like _sexslave29_ and _MASTERDADDY4U,_ and the violent messages, _that_ didn’t feel right either. She had come to the conclusion there was a reason trashy paperbacks existed; for the female fantasy. The experience of unfulfillment was universal. 

But she could live it out through this stranger. Hell—he was offering to be a conduit.

Rey takes a nervous lap around her apartment before settling back in bed, primly sipping a glass of water. She’s not sure why she’s so nervous; perhaps because this feels more personal than porn. Like she’s really investing herself in one other human being; something she was notoriously terrible at. 

Something new catches her eye on the screen: right above his Patreon links, there’s a section that says _First Time?_ She swallows the last of her water, tearing her eyes away from the neatly categorized tags and clicking on this new page. She expects it to be a little biography about the...author? Speaker? Whatever you want to call someone who reads erotica—but it’s not. 

_Welcome to my most popular recording: Hold The Moan. This is a thirty-two minute audio that culminates in a nice little orgasm for the listener—but be warned, if you’re new here, it’s probably a bit more drawn out than you’re used to. Try your best to make it to the end! It references a vibrator but can be modified for hands in case you don’t have one lying around. I encourage you to get comfortable as possible before beginning. Enjoy!_

The play button mocks her, a silent but humiliating triangle. The comment section below bubbles with delight: women with randomly generated usernames thanking him for his work, complete with emoticons and sometimes inarticulate keysmashing.

Rey triple checks that her Bluetooth is off—she’s read more than one Reddit post about people accidentally connecting to a neighbors smart tv—plugging in her headphones and letting her head hit the pillow, sliding the laptop off her stomach to the mattress. She’s too nervous to close her eyes—restless limbs suddenly aware of every ache.

_Hello, sweetheart._

Rey’s eyes snap open: the audio quality is so good for a moment she was sure this man—Kylo—was in the room. It’s crisp, amplified, like she can hear every shuffle behind the mic.

_Are you lying down? On your back, I think, would be best. Just relax. Thighs spread a little, for me, hm?_

Her stomach does that familiar flip; his voice is as deep as bourbon, somehow honeyed, like he’s on the edge of a chuckle. She can _almost_ imagine what he looks like with a voice like that; tall, dark hair. Soft mouth. Crinkled eyes. Huge hands—she can’t emphasize that enough. Almost like—

_Suspiciously_ like IT Ben.

_I do love seeing you like this. Can you close your eyes? Sink into it; you had a long day, baby._

The light from her lamp flickers: Rey considers that she _could_ just stare at the ceiling. Kylo wouldn’t know. He’s indifferent—

_Close them. It’s alright._

She scowls, shutting them.

_That’s good,_ and Rey can hear the smile in his voice; pleased with her. _Put your hands on your belly. Don’t intertwine them or anything. Just relax. Feel how soft you are?_

And—she sort of does, even if it’s silly. He can’t _know_ that she’s soft, that she just showered, exfoliated, and applied her coconut body butter. But it’s true.

_That’s good. My good girl._

Rey gulps.

_We’re going to go slow, alright? You can do that for me?_ She’s compelled to nod, but stops herself at the last second. The audio is too clear; she keeps forgetting she’s alone.

_Use your fingertips. Long, soft touches up and down your pretty waist. Use your nails if you want, as long as you’re gentle. You’re too sweet—we have to warm you up._

Her fingertips are warm against her own skin: oddly, she’s _more_ aware of her tight nipples in the cold air, and emptiness between her legs without even getting close. Normally when masturbating she’d go straight to her clit, quick circles designed to get herself off and then go to bed. She’s never really denied herself, experienced true neediness; sex was about getting to orgasm whatever way possible.

_Alright-why don’t you cup your pretty little tits for me, hmm? Squeeze them._

She could be imagining it, but it sounds like his voice has gotten huskier: she wonders if he gets off on doing these sessions. Should she listen for the slap of his fist around his cock? Little hitched breaths and gritted teeth?

_I didn’t say you could touch your nipples._

Her eyes snap open; her thumbs had moved automatically to relieve some of the pressure there, smoothing over pebbled skin. Immediately she lifts her thumbs, breath catching—

_Little circles; with just your index finger. Not that fast—only around the center. Don’t get too close to that sweet little bud; if you do, just fold your hands back over your belly._

Rey peeks through her eyelashes to see her nipple spring up, quickened to her own attentions. She’s never really thought of them as an erogenous zone; boring compared to what was between her legs, really. 

Now all she _wants_ is to touch them. Soothe over them. She had never realized how delicate her own skin was—how something so simple has always been within reach. It’s kind of…empowering. To know that she can pleasure herself like this. 

_Good girl._

She tries unsuccessfully to suppress a shiver.

_I bet that little cunt is already wet._

Rey grits her teeth: the way he says that filthy _word_ is so hard and unforgiving, mirroring the way her body tenses up.

The voice _laughs._

Furious indignation curdles her blood. How _dare_ this asshole assume something about a woman he doesn’t even know—and then have the audacity to laugh about it?

(And she is. Wet. She can feel a smudge of it on the sheets.)

_The thing is,_ he murmurs; she sees that face again, the one conjured from that time the billing department server went down and Ben rose from the depths of the basement to run new wiring through her team’s cubicles—Ben, running a finger across his lips as he considered various ports on her laptop—only now he was a fantasy, perhaps regarding her with an air of amusement in the armchair across the room while she lies naked. He could be the one leading her through this.

_The thing is,_ he continues, _we’ve barely even begun. And look at you—so ready. Those little whimpers, your toes already curling. You must want this so badly._

Rey bites her tongue. She hadn’t noticed before, but there’s a soothing musical note being played in the background, pressing out the silence. Like he’s romancing her—putting effort into in a way few men have.

_We’ll get there. Together._

Okay, so maybe she’s starting to understand why this is so popular. But false intimacy? How is it—

_Tug at those pretty tits for me, baby. Pinch your nipples between your thumb and finger. Harder each time. Until you think you can’t take it but you_ can.

And _fuck_ if she isn’t doing it; squeezing her skin until her nerve endings sting. It’s not brutal—just the edge of something, though. Enough to make her squirm. She can imagine calloused hands, or pearled teeth nipping at her breasts, a mop of dark hair tickling her collarbone—

_You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?_

It slips out—a tiny thing, barely audible: “-yes,” she hisses in response, realizing that she’s _not letting up on her breasts because he hasn’t said so._

_How are they? Sensitive? I hope so—I like you like this. It’s sweet, how you squirm. But you can stop now. Hands back to your belly. Little circles; don’t stop moving. What should I do next with you?_

Her nails trace red lines down her ribs, to her abdomen. The muscles there feel brand new, tentative. Her cunt is aching, and if this is the only stimulation she’s going to get, she’ll savor it.

_Put your palm flat, fingers pointing down, right between your hips, and press down._

She sighs; the warmth of her entire hand is glorious in the cool night air.

Ben from IT. Now _those_ are hands.

_Feel that? It’s where I’d fill you up. To the brim. Until you’re leaking with it. Stuffed. See how empty you are?_

Positioned like this, her fingers brush through the tuft of hair just above her clit. Straining, perhaps she could reach it—cheat a little. Her fingers creep forward of their own accord, moving the air over her body

_I know, I know. That poor little clit. It’s probably aching to be caressed. Can you feel it?_

Her breath halts, hanging on to his every word. 

_Not yet, baby. You can wait just a little longer for me._

She takes her frustration out with a well-placed kick to her duvet. Rey can feel every individual nerve ending in her cunt screaming to be touched; every molecule of air touching energized with desire. The mere breeze from the AC is nearly unbearable, like a ghost hovering above her body.

And if it wasn’t? If it was a man—one big enough to give her what she needed. Warm and strong and intent on making her feel safe, turning her into a puddle of boneless limbs.

A man with broad hands, who might catch her should she stumble. Kinda like—

_One hand on your breast. The other-cup between your legs. Lightly. Don’t squeeze, or slip a finger inside. You haven’t earned that yet. Just...lay your hand over your cunt. Think about what you want—what you’re going to give me._

She nearly sobs with relief; rocking her hips up to meet the pressure of her palm where it soothes over her labia. She can feel the sticky sweet mess when her middle finger glides over her slit; there’s a rush of heat to her face as she realizes she’s debauched. Ruined. For a _voice._

_Slap it. Your cunt._

Rey pauses—

_Do it._

She does, without questioning further: not very hard, but enough to bring everything into sharpness, like turning up the contrast on a photo.

_Good girl._

Holy shit. _Holy shit._ Her hand hovers, nervous. 

_I want you to look at your vibrator. Where is it? Next to you on the bed? Take a good long peek._

Hers is baby pink and silicone smooth. The little red light at the bottom indicating it was charged blinks back at her where it’s settled on her other pillow.

_Think about the last time you used it. The last time you made yourself come._

It had been—god, a few days ago? Alone in her apartment, blankets up to her chin, ready for bed. Just something to help her sleep. But it had been good and easy and legitimate—it takes her a moment to realize she’s _jealous_ of herself. Inexplicably. The way she’d just gotten off, nothing but the promise of rest in her head. How easy it had been to slip over the edge.

_Did it feel good? I bet you were a little mess; shuddering legs while you enjoyed your orgasm. Fucking yourself with that vibrator. As deep as you could, trying to chase after that feeling. I bet you moaned, maybe tried to muffle it with a hand so nobody caught you enjoying yourself. Is that it?_

He’s breathing heavier, she can tell. Imagines his shoulders twitching with effort. Ben lounging in her armchair, ordering her to show him how she fucked herself.

_Put a finger in your mouth, suck it, and slap your pussy again._

Rey shuts her eyes; parting her lips to jam her pointer finger between her teeth and sucking like it’s candy. If it was Ben’s fingers—god, they’d be thick, working into her mouth, coated with drool. Unrelenting.

She slaps herself—again, not very hard, but it’s enough that she actually moans. It’s good, when the sting wears off. Bright and sensitive.

_Don’t touch your clit—but you can touch your hole. See if it’s wet enough to have earned that vibrator._

She nearly skids a thumb over the bud, but decides not to at the last second: this is research, after all, so she should play by the rules. Instead, she nestles a free fingertip just between her slit, drawing out enough slick that it makes a thin, wet string of her own juices when she pulls her hand away.

_God,_ he chuckles—it’s infuriating— _you're nearly dripping. Must be desperate._

_Put it in your mouth, now. Lick it up, messy girl._

She’s not really a stranger to this—more that she’s tasted herself on her partners. But nobody’s ever…done it so directly. She peers at her hand in the dim light of her bedroom before sticking out her tongue.

It’s the same taste, but far more distilled. Bodily. The salty underflavor makes her tastebuds burst, quickly dimming into her own flavor.

Interesting.

_Listen carefully. Don’t move yet. I’m going to tell you what to do, and you’ll do it exactly as I say, understand?_

Her inside clench with delight—he’s not even in the room and yet—

_When I say, you’re going to reach down and give me one little circle against your clit._

She’s breathing so _loudly_ , why is she breathing so loudly?

_And then you’re going to put your hands right back up and squeeze those tits._

Fuck.

Okay—she can do that. It’s fine. Just one touch, and then...wait. A little longer. Easy. 

She won’t _die._

_Slowly now; you can go. To your ribs...to your belly...that’s good. Slow. Not yet. Do you feel it?_

If it was Ben here, she’d be all feral and snappy with her response. Maybe _duh_ with a roll of her eyes or _of course not, I’m not even touching myself yet._ Just to see what he’d do. But he’s not, so she’s left with an oddly bereft feeling of loneliness.

_Nice circles at the top of your thighs._

Her hips shift a little; with the right strain of her back muscles, she can feel something pulling her arousal deeper, stretching it out. It’s languid, to be so turned on without any direct stimulation. 

_Now. Go ahead. One circle._

It’s _glorious._

She enjoys it thoroughly—it’s like her body is new, somehow. She takes her time with it, if she’s only getting one, and it’s all for the better; she appreciates the soft skin and the subtle buildup of sparks in her abdomen.

_Back up, come on. Show me you’re a good girl._

She whines when her finger lifts, drawing a quick line back up to her chest. Rey puffs up a breath of air before shivering as her fingers pinch at her own skin, needing something to do.

_The vibrator. I want you to grab it and turn it on—the lowest setting please. Don’t do anything with it yet, just listen to the hum._

Rey scowls; the lowest setting is dull and slow. Too weak to get her off. 

_Usually_. Tonight might be different, though. She glances at her pink companion with renewed interest. The switch is easy enough to navigate, and then the silence of the empty room is cut through with the aforementioned mechanical hum.

_Kiss it for me. Like you would my cock._

Jesus Christ—he’d really just said that, for thousands of people on the internet. Wrote it, recorded it, posted it.

And now she’s going to do it.

_—you’re going to wrap a hand around your own throat while you do it._

She swallows, taking her last few gulps of air before doing exactly that: closing her eyes and feeling _ridiculous_ and so, so right. Squeezing her own neck and pressing an open mouthed kiss to her own vibrator, the same one that’s made her shake and squirm and come.

Her tongue skims the silicone, waiting for more.

_You’re going to put it between your legs now—not touching. Just set it on the bed between your thighs. And I want you to feel the way it vibrates on the sheets, so, so close to that needy cunt._

And he’s right—it hurts to see her fucking _mattress_ get more action than she does; the subtle vibrations quiver the sheets, making her hyper aware of her spread legs. She squirms a little, squeaking when the tip of her vibrator brushes her skin. It makes her _ache._

_You’ve lasted so long, baby._

“Yes,” she whispers, brows knitting. 

_You’ve been so good._

_“_ I’m a g-good girl,” she nods, hips still tense. 

_Pick up your toy. Turn it a little higher—I want you to moan for me._

“Yesss,” she hisses reaching down to snatch the device. She clicks until she hits the setting that gives her the most comfortable orgasm, a tried and true.

_We’re just going to do short, little taps, alright? Ten of them. I’ll count for you, so you don’t have to worry that pretty head of yours._

She spreads herself open for access to the softest parts of her; she’s nearly soaked at this point, the skin slippery underneath her fingers. Rey grips the vibrator so hard she’s afraid it’s going to snap.

_One—_

The sound that rips out of her at the first touch is feral. Her clit is so swollen and sensitive that the vibrator nearly slides out of her hands.

_Off._

Rey throws her head back against the pillow and nearly screams into the night; her hips jerk up but she dutifully keeps the vibrator away. Because—she’s a good girl. For him.

_Two._

She slams the buzzing tip back to her skin, nervous to miss a single moment of the pleasure he’s decided to give her; she adjusts a little, trying to find that perfect spot and pressure—

_Off._

Christ, this was harder than she thought it would be; she can feel all her blood down south throbbing with the quick staccato of her heart.

Three through nine are easier; and personally, if you asked; she was imagining lounging in bed with Ben from IT, one of his hands wrapped around her thighs, the bulk of him forcing her to spread her legs. Thinks about how he’d coax her through it, studying her whimpers and moans, trying to find the best position, intent on making her cum as hard as possible. Like she was a piece of art meant to by studied, savored. That thought—edges her closer than ever before.

_Ten._

Tears gather at the corner of her eyes. It’s over, it’s all over now, she missed her chance—

_Hold it down._

The surprise is palpable—her Ben Solo daydream is interrupted when her eyes fly open, trying to see if she was hearing things—

_Harder, sweet thing. You’re going to make yourself come for me._

_“_ Fuck,” she squeaks; her insides clench. He’s going to let her orgasm, isn’t he? She did everything he asked, and _now_ she’s so close and it’s barely even been two minutes of actually using her vibe. Rey is going to get dizzy if she contemplates this for too long; that the article was _right._ He could make her come without even touching her.

_I bet that feels so good on that little clit. Are you close? Hold still. I want you to keep the vibrator on until you come. And then keep going until you’re all spent up, alright? Until you want to beg to take it off. Because that’s how I’d have you; the brink of pleasure, baby. I want you ruined for me._

_“_ I’m gonna—“

_You’re going to come. I promise._

She’s panting and squirming and shaking and suddenly all of it is culminating into the slow drop, the star-bright of everything between her thighs; Rey seizes up and traps the vibrator with her clenched legs until it’s too much, and then she pushes through it while he murmurs sweet things into her ear. Gasping for air, she dimly realizes it’s the hardest she’s come in...quite awhile, actually.

_Good girl._

* * *

On Monday morning she catches the elevator up with Finn; they’re in a crowd but she probably won’t see him much today, and it’s easy enough to disguise what she’s really talking about, so she chances it.

She quietly clears her throat and turns to him, the ding of the humming lift finally moving. “That...thing we talked about? Last Thursday?”

He glances up from a game of candy crush, mouth quirked. “—Did you?”

She nods, grinning and wiggling her eyebrows playfully. “I stand corrected. It was like _nothing_ else.”

“Very humble of you, peanut.”

“It’s wild. After the first I _had_ to do a few more. To make sure.”

“Of course.”

“And…” she blows air out of her mouth, throwing her head back. “It was _incredible._ I’ve never—in my _life—“_

Rey realizes that someone is making choking noises behind her.

She turns to find Ben, completely red in the face—from the tips of his ears down to the first button of his shirt. 

It would be endearing if he didn’t look like he was having a heart attack.

“Ben,” she turns, reaching out, touching his shoulder as he doubles over. “Ben—are you alright? Do you need water?” She gets no response from the brute, so she turns over her shoulder to the rest of the crowd. “Can someone stop the lift, please?”

Ben shakes his head, patting his chest wearily, still holding in an obvious cough.

“Ben—can you speak? Oh god; say something—“

“I’m—I’m _fine,_ Rey _,”_ he manages reluctantly, only slightly wheezing; he still refuses to meet her eyes.

“Oh,” she says softly, hands dropping from his chest.

_Oh_.

_Oh dear._

And as Ben shoves a few accountants out of the way to get off at the fifteenth floor, Rey is left with the realization that she _knows_ that voice. Intimately.

After all, she just spent two straight days letting him make her come.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one so soon bc I love to spoil yall

Ben has a bot set up to monitor comments on the website; obviously he’s not a stranger to filth, but occasionally some angry person will leave a nasty, disparaging essay about why women are sluts. His website is a place for sexual positivity, so the algorithm is set up to send comments like that to him for moderation—and normally he just deletes them.

This all means that it’s not terribly  _ normal _ of him to check the bunk email he set up to give him notifications. Most of them are simple thank yous or declarations of love, but altogether not really anything of interest past a skim read.

So  _ why _ he’s been refreshing his inbox for the last twenty minutes is a mystery.

(Not really. It has something to do with what Rey Niima was whispering at the overpriced salad bar.)

On his third beer—when the tv starts to fade out of his interest, and his alcohol-sodden fingers tab to Instagram, toying with the idea of typing Rey’s name in the search bar—after all, sending a follow request to a fellow employee is very normal behavior. At—he squints at the clock—eleven on a Saturday.

Normal behavior, certainly, when you’ve had a crush on this girl for nearly a year now.

He had mistaken it for irritation for the first few weeks; not understanding why he couldn’t look her in the eye when he set up her workstation on her very first day. She’d been wearing a polka-dot dress that tied on the side in a little bow, with tiny pearl earrings and plain flats.

She’d bumped into him while trying to put her cactus on her cubicle shelf; she was warm and smelled like tangerine, peaches, and a sugar-sweet popsicle, her bare, tanned legs entirely too close for comfort.

Ben hated it; the way he got tongue-tied the moment she walked into a room, like she was bringing in sunshine direct from a tropical island. Hates the way his hands sweat when she gets too close, how he feels icy cold with adrenaline when she simply  _ smiles _ at him.

Of  _ course _ he fantasizes about it; seeing her working late at her desk, coming up behind her and saying something brilliant and sexy so she’ll bend over her keyboard and lift the hem of her skirt and beg him for his cock. How she’ll blush in the hallway after giving him a blowjob in his office, discreetly wiping her pink mouth. How she’d look so small in his tee shirt, curled up beneath his sheets.

Ben nearly drops his beer when his phone buzzes; he swipes back to his email by muscle memory alone, frantically reading the header.

**New Comment Posted**

_ Reybaby94:uhm just wanted to say thanks for this. A friend sent me your interview and I’m glad I ended up checking it out, I think I’ve come like six times already lol. Ur instruction set is my favorite; would consider making another with spanking? _

Fuck.  _ Fuck. _

Rey was in her twenties. Okay, so 94 made sense. And  _ Reybaby _ —he’s heard that before, a nickname along with  _ peanut  _ her little group of friends uses.

_ If _ it was her—

(Does it matter? The idea alone is enough to make his dick hard.)

—if it was true, Rey Niima was sitting naked in her apartment all weekend, getting off to  _ him.  _ Long tan legs, soft gasps for air, rocking the curve of her hips.

And she was going to walk into work Monday morning without a clue.

On principle, he doesn’t usually respond to many comments; it’s usually a lot of work just to make sure the site stays running with new recordings, not to mention the sponsor collection and his writer’s collaboration network. He usually doesn’t have the time, even if he appreciates the feedback.

He can make exceptions, though; Ben contemplates while he takes another swig. He’s the boss. He can do what he likes.

First he needs to go take a cold shower.

  
  


* * *

**Re: New Comment Posted**

_ Sure, @Reybaby94. Anythimb u wan.t _

Rey frowns, squinting at her phone while waiting in line at the grocery store. Kylo Ren’s response had a time stamp of nearly midnight—and it was typed like he was deep in the bottom of a glass.

Her mind transitions stubbornly to Ben at last year’s company holiday party; bleary-eyed next to a half empty bottle of gin. He had nursed his plastic cup—looking like a child’s toy in his huge hand—and made eye contact with her while she helped distribute the Secret Santa gifts.

And for once, he hadn’t looked away.

She remembered being mesmerized—maybe it was the punch, or the holiday sap finally getting to her: but his eyes looked so soft. Unconditional.

He smiled—face crinkling, and subtly raised his glass to her in a silent toast.

It was so out of character for him that Rey erupted in a snort, grinning back. She quickly raised her glass in return, sloshing sticky beer over the rim to drip down her hand.

In unison, they tipped their heads back to take a swig; Rey swallowed and then ducked her head in order to lick the spilled beer from her fingers, out of college-born habit.

When she glanced up again, Ben’s expression had turned inexplicably heady—eyes half lidded, his lips parted. Watching her like a predator.

Rey hadn’t realized back then that she was ready in trouble.

* * *

Now she  _ very _ much realizes she’s in trouble.

She gets absolutely nothing done for the remainder of the morning after the elevator incident, simply staring at her screen, trying to come up with a solution. Ben had bolted just before the doors closed—so either he was up in Leia’s office trying to get her position terminated or he had died from asphyxiation.

By noon, she resolves to do a casual walk past his office; but the door is closed and she’s too nervous to knock. Mitaka, one door down, looks like he’s about to ask her if she needs help, so she quickly stammers something about her mouse not working and if she could have a new one please but if not that’s okay too and honestly it’s not even a problem she’ll just fix it herself and go back upstairs—

Mitaka stands up, brushing past her. “Solo has the inventory closet in his office. Let me see if he’s home.”

“No—“

The door swings inward to find Ben looking like a deer in headlights at his desk with a ham sandwich, his eyes growing huge when he spots Rey hovering behind Mitaka.

“Rey needs a new mouse, have you got spares in-house?”

Mitaka is blissfully unaware of the awful tension in the room for approximately two seconds; it becomes painfully obvious when Ben and Rey can’t stop staring at each other in silence with visible dread.

“...Ben?” Mitaka says slowly.

“I—yes. A mouse. Of course.”

His voice is like a siren’s call; her anxiety is quelled by her body’s Pavlovian response to the sound. The microphone, as expensive as it was, can’t capture the vibrations of his chest. Rey is pretty sure she just felt a drop of slick in her cotton underwear.

“A mouse,” she echoes, barely a squeak.

Mitaka glances between the two of them, grimacing and slowly backing out of the room. Apparently their charade was up—nobody was that oblivious. “A mouse,” the other man mutters warily, stepping around Rey and out into the hallway.

He shuts the door behind him.

Rey feels like she’s about to vomit—everything is the wrong thing to say.  _ Sorry I found your secret side gig and masturbated to your filthy recordings where I got off on your calling me a whore. Anyways I hear Kaydel in billing is getting a promotion. _

Ben finally puts his sandwich down, back into his Pyrex tupperware. He manages to break their staring contest first, looking resolutely at the wall, Adam’s apple bobbing as he leans back.

“Do you really need a new mouse?”

Rey bites her lip, shaking her head a fraction. “No.”

He glances back at her, eyes dipping for a second to her legs. His face is the color of ripe summer tomatoes.

“That’s unfortunate. We got the new wireless models last month. They’re much sleeker.”

Rey laughs, a hollow sound. Okay, so he doesn’t seem to hate her and isn’t currently trying to get her fired. Progress.

“We—don’t have to talk about it,” he tries, dipping his head to stare at his hands, clenched together on his desk. His shirtsleeves are rolled up, which should be illegal—Rey can see his veins from here. “Whatever you want, actually—“

“Did you know it was me? The comment?”

He winces. 

Rey narrows her eyes at him. Weasel. “You  _ did,”  _ she accuses, putting her hands on her hips.

“I  _ didn’t.  _ Not for sure—I had my fantasies, but there was no way to know. How could I? Not until—“

“This morning,” she finishes for him, watching his expression turn so abashed he might have been a scolded child.

“Correct,” he answers lamely, licking his lips.

Rey pauses, trying to figure out how in the hell to have this conversation. There’s no blueprint for this behavior; her knees feel as weak as they would out to sea.

“What do you mean...fantasy?” She asks, taking a step forward. Ben looks panicked, like a cornered animal.

“Nothing—uh, just—turn of phrase. You know.” He gestures vaguely. “It wasn’t anything. It didn’t mean anything, I mean. Uh, if that makes sense.”

His office isn’t that large; Rey reaches his desk in two more steps, then comes around so they’re on the same side.

“Oh,” she shrugs. Ben is leaning back now like she’s frightened him, hands gripping the armrests so hard they’re squeaking for mercy. “That’s too bad.” She puts her hands behind her and hops up on the wood to his left, crossing her legs and peering down at him.

“It...is?” he asks, voice nearly cracking.

“I think so,” she cocks her head sweetly. “Don’t you?”

Ben is gaping at her like a fish; Rey is pretty sure she just short-circuited his brain. 

Perhaps he needs a more...overt invitation.

If she’s going to skip lunch, she’s still going to get her fill. Speaking of—

“Do you want to hear what my favorite one was?” Rey turns, grabbing his sandwich and lifting it to her face, glancing down at him to see if he’ll protest. Ben says nothing, only focuses on her mouth.

Rey takes a bite and chews—spicy mustard, coincidentally her favorite. “I...always welcome feedback,” he answers lamely, eyes dipping to watch her throat when she swallows.

“My favorite was when you called me a little slut, and made me gag myself on my vibrator before begging to be fucked. I had to change the  _ sheets. _ ”

Ben breathes through his mouth, looking lightheaded.

“It was so good. I’ve never come like that before—but there was just one thing.”

“Ah,” he nods, gazing up at her.

“I wasn’t thinking about Kylo Ren necessarily, as anonymous as he might be. I mean—the whole point is to imagine whoever you want, right? Well—there’s this guy—“

Ben’s face shatters; he looks like he might actually cry.

“And I think maybe he’d fuck me just as good.”

“That’s um. Great, Rey.” He really does a good job of looking like a kicked puppy.

“Over his desk.”

“Well, I wouldn’t recommend on company time—“

“Right now.”

She watches it happen slowly, like a sunrise, his facial features going through a complicated dance of denial, confusion and then—

Acceptance.

“Do you—mean...me?” He asks carefully, afraid to offend.

Rey nods, licking mustard from her thumb. “Does your door lock?”

He jumps out of his chair like he’s been electrocuted: Rey can spot the obvious bulge in his trousers as he hurries across the room to turn the handle. From the size of it, she’s starting to feel some creeping trepidation.

He clears his throat again. “What exactly do you want. Be clear, Rey.” His voice—it’s like he’s pulled her string, winding her up with little effort. Already she feels shy, shifting her legs.

There’s a terrible tremble in her voice when she speaks, but she pushes through it. “I want you to eat me out right here, and then,” she takes a deep breath, “bend me over and fuck me like you said you would.”

Ben takes a step forward—by god, the button on his slacks is  _ strong _ to hold back what must be nearly a third leg—she drags her eyes back up to his face, which is clearly a mistake. Because he’s looking at her like she’s something to eat.

“I don’t have condoms,” he pauses, running a palm down his chest and wincing.

Rey blinks, worrying the inside of her cheek. She’s pretty sure she already made a mess of his desk; it was going to be hard to stop now.

“I’m. Clean, actually. IUD and everything. Just—if you want.”

“You’re sure?” he says, eyes wide.

“We don’t  _ have  _ to—“

“If I  _ want.  _ That's what you said.” The dangerous quality snaps back into his tone, the one that promised control.

Rey shivers, one hand clenching the hem of her skirt. 

He crosses the room to stand between her spread legs: he’s wide, and she’s out of practice so her legs already feel the stretch. “You want to know something?” he asks, putting one finger on her knee and tracing up, up to where her skirt ends, pushing higher, bunching the fabric at her hips; the little line he makes feels like fire. “I’ve thought about this. A lot.”

She smiles, feeling victorious. “Fucking me on your desk?” she teases.

“No. Licking your cunt. Feeling you come—how you’d taste. Your thighs around my head.”

Oh.

He shrugs, faking nonchalance as he kneels. “I just didn’t know you’d be so  _ desperate _ for it when I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Rey wrinkles her nose. “Listen, I know I mentioned earlier I got off to the sound of your voice, but as the situation stands, you’re not going to be doing a lot of talk—“

Rey squeals, slapping a hand over her mouth when he merely tugs her underwear to the side and licks,  _ painfully _ slow from the bottom of her slit to just above her clit.

“You,” he licks again, “are a bit of a brat.”

Rey keens; Ben nuzzles his face at her center, hair tickling her skin. She can feel it when his nose bumps against her—the way he alternates between open-mouthed, sloppy kisses and using the point of his tongue. When he lifts his head again, his chin is wet, shining under the lamp.

“Tell me,” he murmurs—there’s a fingertip sliding between her folds, his other hand laid on her belly. “How many times did you come for me?”

Rey leans up on her elbows, puffing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “S-seven.  _ Fuck— _ “ his finger is blunt when it slides inside of her. “I had to charge my vibrator twice.”

He  _ tsks.  _ “You can do better than that, baby.”

With his second finger there’s an embarrassing amount of burn—Rey is a normal-sized human, albeit lean, but Ben’s hands are disproportionately large. It just keeps going and going until he’s buried them to the knuckle and it feels like she’s filled all the way up. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he continues, slowly drawing his fingers out before stuffing them back in, eliciting a grunt from her. “You’re going to sit there and take what I give you like a good girl,” he crooks his fingers and rubs a slow circle on her inner wall, working some special part of her that’s making her clench up. “And you’re going to be  _ quiet, _ ” he leans over her, his free hand reaching up to encircle her neck. “Understand?”

Rey nods, feeling the press of his warm skin at her throat. She’s never wanted anything more than his fingers inside of her; the emptiness will kill her.

He seems satisfied; the ensuing smirk back makes her heart palpitate. 

“Did you listen to the  _ First Time _ recording?”

Rey nods. She listened to it more than once, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Do you remember the part where I told you to press down,” his hand moves, splaying over her abdomen, nearly covering the width of her, “right here?”

“Yes,” she whispers. It had been heartbreaking to do so; only serving as a reminder that she had been so achingly unspent.

But  _ now _ Rey was squirming beneath him while his fingers gently probed inside of her, finding all the lovely sparking spots.

“Show me.”

Rey leans back a little before moving her trembling arm so her hand lays on top of his; it looks comically small in comparison.

She gasps when he leans his weight down, simultaneously rubbing his crooked fingers  _ hard.  _ It knocks the wind out of her, feeling doubly full, like there’s nowhere for his fingers to  _ go _ . Rey has managed to brush her g-spot before with a vibrator if she can happen to reach deep enough, but this—

It’s like he’s going to milk the pleasure out of her, wring her out, and he hasn’t even unzipped his trousers.

“Quiet,” he reminds her, leaning over to nip at her knee. “Remember?”

“Ben,” she gasps, kicking out, nearly hitting him in the back. “Ben, I can’t—“

His thumb finds her clit and rubs an agonizingly gentle circle—Rey tilts back her head and  _ whines. _

His hand encircles her throat in an instant.

“Do you want me to gag you with my fingers or choke you?”

“W-what?”

“Too late,” he mutters, promptly shoving his thumb into her mouth, his fingers loosely cupped at her jaw. “Suck if you can’t be quiet for me. Press your hand down like I told you to. I’m going to suck that pretty clit until you come,” he leans over her, stretching to kiss the tip of her nose, “—just. Like. This.”

Rey gurgles beneath him, glancing down where her palm is against her hipbone. She shivers when she realizes that she can  _ feel _ where his fingers are still slowly fucking her.

It’s only a moment later when Ben dips his head and her clit is bathed in wet warmth. He’s true to his word, priming her with a few broad licks before pressing in and sucking her clit between his lips. It’s wonderful, all sensation down to a tiny point until she’s floating in it.

And then he starts fucking her with his fingers in earnest, and holy  _ sh— _

Rey nearly bites down on his thumb: her head buzzes with overwhelming pleasure, and it’s all being ripped from her by a skilled tongue. His fingers are unrelenting, but it’s the  _ sounds _ that push her over the edge; the wet slide of skin and his insolent mouth as he laps greedily at her center until—

Her orgasm is mighty, stringing her tight, her legs immediately clenching over his shoulders to hold his head where she wants; Ben catches the hint, pushing his fingers deep and suckling at her like his life depends on it. She muffles her cries into his hand, high pitched, awful things that sound like need personified.

And Rey would say it’s over but it’s not; the trembly aftershocks of being touched in so many places are like an echochamber—a shift there, a squirm here, like a domino effect with no end.

And Ben just—stands up, quickly sucking his fingers clean. He wraps his hands at her waist and rolls her over easily, until her legs hang limp over the edge, toes trailing the ground. Rey is in a daze, almost confused about what he’s doing until she hears the sound of a zipper.

Oh yeah. She’s about to get fucked by her daydream man.

Rey wiggles until she finds enough purchase on the ground to lift up on her toes, arching her back in a way she hopes is attractive. Ben seems to approve, quickly slapping her ass (she muffles a yelp) and putting a hand on her upper back, pushing her down until her shoulders are touching the wood.

“You,” he grunts, the tip of his cock prodding forward; she’s sensitive enough to hiss. “Are a little slut. Getting fucked raw at work.”

Rey’s chest is still heaving from her own orgasm, enough that she can barely catch her own breath to respond. 

“Spreading your legs at my desk,” he admonishes, making her stomach flip. Rey buries her face into her forearm—he finds her soaked entrance and starts grinding forward, a slow burn. “Bending over for a fat cock.”

The first few inches have her immobile. She grits her teeth as he fucks her slowly, shallowly. “Wants me to come inside her, until she’s stuffed—” he notches deeper, and Rey wheezes. “—so full. Is that right?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, flexing the muscles in her back. “Yes, please. Fuck me.”

“You’re just going to  _ take  _ it,” his hands fall to her hips, adjusting her position so he can slide even deeper; his weight settles more distinctly between her legs. “Like a good girl.”

Tears prick at her eyes; she’s already come so thoroughly it seems impossible to be turned on  _ again. _

“Rey?” He squeezes her hips, thumbs digging into her back.

She hiccups as the root of him is finally pushed inside of her. “I—I’m a good girl,” she whines. “A—and I’m going to take it.” 

And  _ that _ seems quite enough for him.

Ben fucks in long, hard strokes with his whole body—dipping his cock in and out of her until Rey gives up on trying to catch her breath. Every little noise that squeaks past her defenses makes her nervous that he’ll stop or slow down, but Ben is finally past rationality. He yanks her hips back for leverage, burying himself deep on each thrust while she quietly whines beneath him.

“Who owns this pussy,” he growls, slapping her ass. “Who fucks you brainless, Rey?”

“You,” she gasps, fingernails scratching deep grooves in the wood. “You do Ben, oh god—”

“I could make you come down here for lunch for the rest of your fucking career,” he continues, pounding into her. “Give you my cock any way I’d like. Lick that clit until you  _ cry.  _ My little whore.”

_ “Please,” _ she moans, shaking her head. She hates that he’s right, that she’d give anything for that.

“Beg for my come,” he tangles his hands into her hair, pulling her head back until she’s arched painfully. “Don’t you want to be stuffed full?” he pants into her ear. “Go back to your desk and sit pretty while I drip out of you?”

“Come in me,” she nods, clenching down; she can tell he’s close from the way his strokes are shuddering. “Come in my pussy, Ben, I want it so bad. W-want you to come. I want to be filled up.  _ Please— _ “

“ _ Fuck, _ Rey _ ,”  _ he snarls, pulling her hips back until he’s as deep as he can go. Rey feels it when he unloads, the peculiar sensation of liquid warmth inside of her. Ben is quick to fall over her, twitching while pressing her down against the desk with his weight.

Eventually, when the oxygen returns to her brain, she feels a featherlight sensation moving on her spine—it takes her a moment to realize he’s pressing soft kisses in-between the notches of her bones.

She’s too nervous to speak, so she waits him out a little. His digital watch buzzes, breaking the silence for her to signify the last ten minutes of the hour.

“I think I did this backwards,” he croaks, leaning up so she can turn enough to see his face—his hair is damp at the temples and thoroughly mussed. “But if you’ll forgive me, can I take you on a date Friday?”

Rey looks at him from under her lashes. She thinks about her feelings-and-relationships-sabbatical. Thinks about how sometimes letting someone in means pressing old bruises. Thinks about Ben’s mouth on the softest parts of her. Thinks about his smile at the Christmas party.

“Yeah,” she nods, shyly grinning up at him, “that would be nice.”

* * *

From: Mitaka, Dopheld (IT)

To: Holdo, Amilyn (Human Resources)

Sent: Monday, June 16th, 2020, 12:32pm

Subject: OFFICE RELOCATION ASAP OR I SUE (High Priority)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Mitaka scored a high-rise corner office in exchange for his silence, Amen 🙏 
> 
> @TheVuasLog

**Author's Note:**

> @thevuaslog please bully me into finishing my WIPs


End file.
